One of those nights
by Lantern92
Summary: She wasn't part of this world. His world. "Are you scared?" [ONESHOT]


"Are you scared?"

The strained mood thickened as she shuffled on the stool she was perched on, her short skirt deviously pulling up her thighs and earning a lustful glimpse from me.

Across the smoke-filled, sexed-up, gang-packed precarious shit hole of a pub, one of the resident whores gave me a sultry smile that beckoned me over but barely kept my attention. None of the women in this godforsaken part of town ever attracted me the way the new girl was. I had had one too many hookups with hookers and had grown disgusted, impertinent and ultimately apathetic towards them. Their very presence annoyed me to the point where I lost any kind of respect for their profession, and _them_ as people. They were now just objects.

So when _she_ walked in, I knew right away that she was different. She wasn't one of them. No, she wasn't part of this world. And it was painfully obvious. Everything about her screamed different. Different as in _g__ood. _Aside from the fact that everyone who hung around here at fucken four am were the regulars up to no good, usually anyone who found themselves this side of the slums at this ungodly hour was normally looking for a cheap fuck or even cheaper drugs. Maybe both. And she sure as hell didn't look like a junkie given her immaculate look; maybe she was looking for a quickie?

Maybe.

I glanced expectantly at the raven haired woman in the dim light of the shanty, trying to make out her features curtained beneath the long silky locks. She looked like a typical suburban girl who grew up with everything handed to her on a silver platter. The kind of girl I usually saw driving by in their way too expensive cars which cost an amount that equaled to a good nine years' worth of rent for me and then some. She brushed a stray hair behind an ear and turned to me indifferently and shrugged, seemingly deciding that I was neither fun nor interesting enough for her.

"Of what?" she asked boldly, sipping on a glass of clear hard vodka diluting in cubes.

Her emerald eyes twinkled intensely as if she was daring me to reply. It was almost comical the way she thought she was so tough and I smirked, trying not to outright laugh at the delusion in her face. _Silly girl_ I thought. I wondered whether she knew where she was, or if she took a wrong turn to one of her poolside parties… perhaps she was so drunk she didn't realize that she was surrounded by gangsters, murderers, thieves, whores, drug dealers and all sorts of criminals who would eat her for breakfast.

Her red bottom nine inch heels earned envious looks from the girls of the night strewn all over the pub, she swung one leg over the other indignantly and I couldn't help but gaze unashamedly at the curves showing through the thin material of her expensive dress. In that moment, I knew I wanted every piece of her.

I hated everything she was. From her manicured toes to her smug, crude attitude. But there was something I wanted. Her body? Hell yes. Her emotions? I would make her writhe calling my name. Her devotion? Unevoked and unbridled. Her very essence? She would definitely _become_ mine and no man would ever dare breathe in her direction without my permission. The sudden attraction was undeniably unsettling, what the fuck had I become? Her confidence both surprised and drew me in, the girl had balls to even dare oppose me. Most people ran for cover when they saw me and I usually forgot how intimidating I could be, especially when I stared and barked commands or demanded answers.

Pure evil ran rampant in these streets and as drunk as I was, I could see it all around watching her, waiting patiently for its chance to devour her whole. i jealously gave the creeps checking her out glares of death and they shyed away, sensing my territorial claim. Even hardened criminals dared not cross my path. And yet here she was playing tough guy like I wasn't capable of raping and stabbing her just for the kicks. In addition to her being surrounded by dangerous people, she was defenseless and alone, it made her the perfect prey. Did this bitch even know who I was?

"This place, all these people… Me." I replied, eyeing her with an intimidating glare.

She scoffed and fished out money from her bra, paying the bartender for another drink "At this point, I really don't give a fuck."

I didn't have the patience for any of her self-assured, dumb naivety. I rarely had the patience for anything at all. But more especially, not for this broad. No, tonight I wanted to grab a few drinks, get back home and shower the scent of gun powder, cheap alcohol and dried blood and off myself then sleep on my shit bed. It wasn't much to ask for, but it would make me less irritated by everything, my version of feeling better. My intolerance wore out the curiosity I initially had towards her. Why did the fuck was she acting like she was so damn special? She was sexy as hell, but the girl wasn't made out of gold, and I was pretty sure she didn't shit it too. So I sat there, ignored her while listening to the motions of my surrounding until I heard the bell rattle, signaling the door had swung open to let in yet another merrymaker.

A couple of hookers came up to me and tried their luck but I rudely dismissed them and they called me expletive names, adding on insults about how cheap I was. The same old thing happened here, fights broke out over money and territorial rights between gangs and criminals, prostitutes fought over clients, illegal narcotics were being taken regularly and people had sex orgies in the dark corners of the open space. Routine was the curse. I was growing sick of this vibe and honestly, I loathed every moment of every second I spent in these fucked slums. However, I knew I'd never leave because more than I hated it here, I hated _the_ _other_ _side_ with the intensity of two white hot suns. The side _she_ came from. The perfect part of Townsville where everyone was happy and played on cotton candy and fucken rainbows made me want to blow chunks over my own slit wrists.

"Another drink, Brick?" the old bartender asked.

I nodded, slipping him money for three more beers "Keep 'em coming."

I grew comforted from the warm buzz the alcohol was giving me, the clinks of drink bottles, aggressive chatter, moans and rowdy laughter intermingled into the sound I had grown to associate with home. No matter how fucked up all these people were, they were all the family I knew. I hated them but they were who I knew how to best fit in with. A couple of guys came over and paid their respects to me for a recent bank robbery I'd done with my brothers, narrowly evading the cops. Here, success was measured in the number of illegal things you did. I guess you could then say I was pretty much a celebrity.

I realized that it might just always be like this – dirt poor, no prospects for the future and destined to live of crime, ruling the streets with fear, struggling to make ends meet and out of control alcoholism.

A sudden bang on the bar caught my attention.

I spotted its origin to my left and saw a green skinned man in shades despite the dark pub grabbing the wannabe tough rich girl's hair in a pool by her scalp, her head forcibly tiled backwards. He was saying something commanding in her ear as she struggled for him to let go of her hair. I didn't even think twice whether to help or not because I'd learnt never to get involved in anybody's business. It wasn't my battle to fight. Violence between couples was commonplace and no one batted an eyelid, even when it occurred right in their face. That and it was an unsaid rule on the streets to keep your nose to in your own business. Nobody gave a damn about you, why should you be the one to love thy neighbor?

The man pulled her off the stool by her hair so that she could stand and look up at him, measuring taller than her by four good inches. She cried for him to stop but she showed no mercy and I wondered why the hell he was even dragging her like some sort of animal. The fear in her eyes seemed authentic enough, she would comply with any of his commands; but the jackass looked determined to teach her a lesson.

He angrily removed his hand off her head and with it a good chunk of her hair as the girl hissed and fought back tears. Panting weakly she begged and apologized for having her hair ripped out (because that's what it sure as hell looked like) but he stood above her, condescendingly and frowned on her in repulsion.

When his eyes met mine watching the whole scene, he held the glare for a good moment, a neutral, unimpressed expression attached onto my face.

"What?" he asked angrily as he clapped away the girl's hair from his fingers like it was dirt. I didn't reply and he proceeded to grab the girl by her bicep, yanking her out of the bar where she fell outside on the hard concrete. Her huge green eyes met mine from the distance and I saw the tough exterior had now vanished and been replaced with a combination of fear, deep sadness and pleading for help that marked her lost innocence when she knew what was coming. Before the door shut behind them to cover the scene, I saw him take a good swing aimed at her head.

It was another typical night at Boomers Bar. I had seen so many men beating up their girlfriends that I had grown desensitized to it. People around here made it the norm and yet…

Why did this one feel so different?

Five drinks went by pretty quickly and by 549 I was completely trashed. I was sure I'd be able to walk home, I always did. The pub was still pretty full, if anything, it was getting fuller. These people never fucken slept or cared to sleep, crime never took a break. In any case, the blanket of the night was our security, our daylight.

The barman nodded at me like he usually did when he thought it was about time I went by or else hed call the security to eventually throw my limp body out out by the dumpsters after passing out. I made my way out of the place and the sting of the weather hit me hard. I cursed myself for not bringing a jacket. I heard noises by the alley that I had spent way too many mornings nursing hangovers in like some homeless bum. I needed to get home, out of this cold but when I passed the alley, I spotted the abusive fuckface from two hours ago.

He was leaning over a body.

The alcohol turned me in his direction and I stealthily approached him, and noticed that the body he was hunching over was rich girl's. without even thinking twice about it, I fished out the AK47 tucked into my belt and pulled the trigger quicker than I had a chance to think about.

This was when all the dumb shit happen. Whenever I got stupid drunk. Stupid drun was right to say because it made me just that. Slower, softer, less smarter… in other words, purely stupid and recklessness.

I stood there for what seemed like minutes on end staring at the dead body by my feet.

I had killed a stranger for absolutely no reason. Actually, it wasn't for any other reason. It was because of _her_. She needed to be protected from the monsters of the slums, a jewel like her didn't deserve to be here. Looking at her beaten body, her swollen eyes could barely stay open but I could see the absolutely horrified look on her face

Tears streamed down her cheeks and mixed with the blood and dirt all over her bruised face. I looked at her, expecting her to get up and leave, but she was immobilized with shock. My drunken vision saw two of her perfect form, swirling sideways. She was shaking cause of the weather, maybe out of pain and possible out of fear. I leaned down beside her, balancing on the balls of my feet.

"Are you scared now?"


End file.
